


Desert Dusters

by sera_wasnever



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: F/F, Helium Wars, really the beginning, sorta the DJs' generation, these gals are VERY pre-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24003745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sera_wasnever/pseuds/sera_wasnever
Summary: Pre-canon stories from the helium wars, 'bout one of the BEST gangs in the zones (Harold, they're all lesbians)
Kudos: 4





	Desert Dusters

**Author's Note:**

> Cringe culture is dead this is MY fic I get to write about my ocs if I want to

Motor Monkey had spent her entire life in and out of firefights, and she still hated them with a passion. As she caught her breath behind a rock, her heart running like a janky engine, she let herself squeeze her eyes shut for a second and try to wipe the flashing images of people falling from her head. Fuck, this was why she was useless in a fight.

The sound of laser fire brought her back to herself. No, no time. She had to get back up, do _something_. She tried to turn and get up, get sights on where that exterminator had gone, but she slipped, sprawling on her front, when her cape refused to come with her. Scrambling to turn inside the neck-hole, she found herself face to face with a heeled knee-high boot.

“Mother _fucker_!! Fizz, here!”

She tried to untangle her arm and get her gun out, but the exterminator just laughed – a harsh, nasal sound. One of her hooded grunts came up behind her – the other must be fighting Fizz, shit – and her dark mouth twisted into a smug grin as she pointed her grey raygun down at Motor’s head. Motor wanted to stare back up the sights, give some kinda last expression of defiance, but when she tried, the blue eyes that met hers were cold and pointed enough to make her stomach turn and force her to look away. Motor scrunched her eyes shut again and tried to take one last full breath.

In… and out.

She still wasn’t dead. What?

“What’s taking ya so damn long,” Motor hissed as she opened one eye, peering back at the gun that… wasn’t there? No, it was there, hanging in a limp gloved hand. Motor couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. The hooded crow behind the exterminator wasn’t quite masked – a scrap of fabric on the blank face had been burnt off and out of it she could see an eye burning with hatred, glaring at the exterminator they now had in a headlock, gun to her head.

Motor barely heard the shot, barely saw the confusion in the exterminator’s eyes, before the ugly pewter gun clattered to the ground and her body fell with a thump.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, sitting up and twisting her cape back behind her, as the crow stepped back slowly from their boss’s body. “Uhh, thank you? I suppose?”

There was a pause, and she was about to ask what the hell was going on, when she heard a yell from behind her.

“Key, watch out! I got her!”

Oh shit, Fizz. She jumped to her feet, ignoring her spinning head, and ran up to her crewmate, as he limped towards them. “No, Fizz, Fizz you don’t understand, they _got_ her!” she explained breathlessly.

Fizz did not look impressed.

“What are you talking about, Key!” he exclaimed, grabbing her shoulder, “That’s a crow! That’s…” he gestured towards the turncoat with his gun, and they both turned to see them hesitantly removing their scorched hood and sticking their hands up.

“I don’t expect you to trust me” they said, in a controlled but nervous voice, “but I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

Motor glanced at Fizz, eyebrow raised, trying to convey _I told you so_ , but he just gave a doubtful look back, and raised his gun at the crow again, wearing as stern a look as he could manage.

“Who are you? What’s going on? You expect we’re stupid enough to see this isn’t a trap?”

“My name is Cherry Brookes, rank 5,” The crow maintained eye contact with Fizz as she answered, and Motor could see him shifting under her gaze, “As you can see I’m kinda sick of my job. Been looking for a way out for a while now, and it looks like I’ve found it. And I don’t expect anything of you. Shoot me now, if you want.”

Fizz moved like he was gonna take the suggestion to heart, and Motor grabbed his arm with a hissed “C’mon, really?”. The idiot had given up on looking stern and was obviously just angry now.

Cherry closed her eyes, as if waiting for a shot for a few seconds. This was getting ridiculous. Motor grabbed Fizz’s gun off him and shoved it in her bag. “Nuh uh, we’re not playing executioner today.”

Cherry opened her eyes, looking a bit lost, “I- Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And you can put your hands down now,” Motor almost laughed at her awkwardness, ignoring the fuming Fizz next to her.

“So… what now?”

“Now, I guess you come with us,” Motor put her arm around Fizz’s shoulders as he tried to object. “I mean, we can always use an extra hand, or an extra gun on our side.”

“You can’t just-!” Fizz shook her arm off, outraged, “I mean, she could be a spy!” Motor rolled her eyes. “I mean it, Key, we might not be playing executioner but we can at least take prisoners.”

“Well, obviously we’ll keep an eye on you.”

“No, Motor, this isn’t happening.” Fizz strode up to Cherry, who’d been watching the exchange with a slightly bemused expression, and rooted around in one of his many pockets for something, “Sorry, but I think we’re gonna make this decision as a group, in a while. Until then…” He gestured with the ziptie in his hand, and she nodded, unsurprised.

“Fair enough. You probably want to get the knife off my belt too.”

Fizz finished tying her hands, grabbed the knife and tossed it to Motor. “Here ya go. For your collection.”

“Hmmph,” she barely glanced at it, “got a million of these already.”

Fizz ignored her bitter looks and crossed arms and set off, shouting over his shoulder “C’mon, back to the others.”

Motor sighed, “Alright, guess you’re coming with us, Cherry. You’ll be out of those in no time.”

“If you say so,” she twisted her hands in the ties as they trailed behind Fizz. “Damn, he wasn’t taking any chances with how tight these are.”

“That’s Fizz for ya.”

“That’s his name? Gotta say, I’d like to know who I’m travelling with.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, _spy_ ,” Motor laughed, but Cherry looked a little hurt, “Nah nah, I’m joking! You wouldn’t’ve heard of us anyways. I’m Motor Monkey, that one’s Fizz, and we’re meeting up with our da – folks call him Deco, and this Raven kid we’re keeping an eye on.”

“Kid? There’s children out here?”

“Course there are. Not many born since the war amped up, but Raven’s from just before that. Kid’s what? Nine? You crows only popped up a couple years ago.”

“I guess.” Cherry looked uneasy.

“Hey, I know we gotta ask the others, scan you and- “

“Scan me?”

“Scared?”

“No! Just didn’t think you guys had much tech out here.”

“Aha, well I think you’ll find collecting that crap is my specialty,” Motor gloated, “But I’m just gonna run you over with a metal detector, check for chip scars and all that.” Cherry looked a little impressed – Motor knew she’d like her. “Anyway, after that, ‘n goin’ through your stuff, you’re gonna be one of us, okay?”

“I mean, I’d love to,” Cherry stopped for a sec, “and I want to help, but like, is that really possible?”

“Of course!” Well, probably. “There’s been a shitton of runaways recently, people are having to get used to the idea.” She still looked unconvinced. “Okay, you wanna run with us, you sure as hell can’t have a city name. What was it, ‘Cherry Brookes’? That ain’t a rebel name.”

“Hey, I like Cherry!” She was smiling now, at least. “Picked it myself,” she added, half mumbling.

“Okay, that’s more like it. But seriously, city names are dangerous.”

“Hmm, what do you think?”

“I think… I mean you pick it cause of what you do, right? Like I’m a gearhead, Fizz is always bubbly or angry, da decorates people, Raven, uhh, broods, I guess? What do you do?”

“Dunno, I’m a crow, before we were called that I worked security, I guess I’m mainly a good shot.”

“Right, and that was damn useful with whatserface –”

“Juno,” she grimaced.

“As I said, whatserface – so add a bang! Burst! Blast! Something cool like that.” Motor thought for a second, “I wouldn’t pick Cherry Bomb though, there’s a million of ‘em an’ it’s hard to keep track.”

“Right, can’t use Cherry…” She was hesitant, and Motor could tell she felt a bit silly. Motor nudged her, tried to jerk her out of it, and she saw her grin for the first time, “…Berry Blast?”

“Yeah, that’s more like it!” Motor slung an arm around Berry’s shoulder as they neared the van, “Motor Monkey and Berry Blast, that’s a good lot of uhhh,” she shook her head trying to think of the word.

“Alliteration?”

“Yeah! Alliteration allies!”

Berry started giggling, and even with her uniform and buzzed hair, there was no way Motor could mistake her for a crow. This was gonna go just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> if this were from Berry's pov it would just be a constant "NO CAPES!"


End file.
